


Insult to Injury

by glim



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Common Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Season/Series 01, Sickfic, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: Almost a whole week alone with Viktor might not be worth one of them made victim to a sprained ankle and both of them to a winter head cold, but maybe it is worth all that, at least in some small way.





	

Winter in in St. Petersburg makes Yuuri long for Hatsetsu. The winters at home are cold, but not freezing, and the chill is always tempered by frequent trips to the onsen. Here, the cold seems endless, the blanket of snow on the ground and the icy wind whistling over it most mornings, piercingly cold. Most days, by the time Yuuri gets to the rink to practice or the gym to work out in the morning, or back home in the afternoon, he tends to forget the bite of the wind and the sting of the cold on his skin. This morning, it feels as if the cold sets up residence deep inside him.

Viktor chats on their walk to the skating rink, animated and smiling, but Yuuri hunches into his coat and scarf and only listens this morning. Viktor's like this most mornings: cheerful, awake, ready to greet the new day with an enthusiasm that only another morning person could understand. 

And Yuuri is most definitely _not_ a morning person. As a result, he silence goes unremarked upon and when he goes to warm up on his own, Viktor pats him on the shoulder and kisses him on the cheek before giving Yuuri some quiet time to himself. Yuuri keeps his coat on before starting his morning warm-up routine and even shivers at the sound of that wind outside as he did on the walk there. He'd been ignoring a sore throat and headache ever since he'd woken up an hour ago, but something about moving from their warm apartment, to the freezing cold outside, and then to the warmer, but not quite warm enough, skating rink is making it more difficult. 

He coughs at his shoulder, and gives a little wince. Swallowing hurts a little, too, and the scratchy, sore feeling is in that odd place between his nose and ears and throat that makes him think it might be the start of a cold. 

"You sound like you're getting sick," Viktor says. He still has on his coat and scarf, his hair wind-rumpled, as he comes to stand next to Yuuri. "I brought you tea. I think you need another cup this morning." He hands the tea over, then starts to unwind his scarf.

"Oh. Maybe? I feel alright." The steam rises off the tea in twisting patterns and Yuuri wraps his hands around the cup and holds it closer to his face. Breathing in the steam feels nice and reminds him of early mornings in bed on their days off. "It might be the temperature change..."

"I know..." Viktor leans in closer to brush Yuuri's hair off his forehead, the gesture quick and affectionate. "The dry heat at home is bothering your throat still? We'll do something about that... It gets so cold at night, we need to have the heat on." 

"It's... maybe that? My throat hurts a little," he adds, and brings the cup of tea in closer to the breathe the steam. He coughs again, then sniffles, and quickly rubs his nose against the back of his hand. 

Viktor crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head to the side, giving Yuuri an appraising look. "You _do_ sound like you're getting sick. Maybe you should, hmm..." 

Yuuri swallows past the pain in his throat and then takes another sip to of the tea to see if that will help. He half expects Viktor to tell him to try and not catch cold, knowing that Viktor himself still half-expects that it's the sort of thing a coach ought to say. 

But the expression on Viktor's face softens when he watches Yuuri frown after swallowing again and he takes two steps closer to rest his hand on Yuuri's back. "Well, you've been working so hard lately, maybe try not to push yourself too much today." 

"I'm alright, Viktor."

"Not if you're getting sick you're not." 

"It-it's nothing." 

"You're coughing," Viktor points out, unnecessarily, and rubs Yuuri's back when he turns aside to cough at his shoulder again. "And your throat sounds scratchy. And you've been sniffling since last night." 

"You noticed that? I didn't meant to bother you..."

"That's no bother. Of course I noticed."

Instead of turning back, Yuuri ducks his head down and stares at the steam rising from the tea. He can't actually hide from Viktor, not now that they live together, so he definitely can't hide the cold from him, but he's not sure the rink is the place where he wants to this sort of moment with his boyfriend. He hasn't actually been ill in front of Viktor before, though he's had the express joy of seeing Viktor with a raging hangover a few times now and a non-alcohol induced sick headache once. He'd been so quietly miserable with that headache, his head on Yuuri's shoulder, not able to do anything but sit still with his eyes closed until the medicine began to work and the pain and nausea faded.

The reminder, especially of the last instance of Yuuri bringing Viktor tea and crackers and rubbing his temples, takes away some of the shyness, and Yuuri turns back to Viktor. 

"It's... a little cold maybe. I can work through that, but..." Yuuri sniffles, then sighs when he has to rub his nose again. "I won't push myself." 

Viktor gives him an encouraging smile, stroking his hair where's it's starting to grow past his shirt collar, and then a triumphant one when Yuuri nods. 

"Good boy. Then you'll take it easy for a few days." 

~ 

Viktor's idea of 'taking it easy' appears to be letting Yuuri take a few more breaks, handing him tissues twice as much as usual, and telling him to drink water more. The rest of their practice is almost the same, though, and Yuuri finds himself thinking wistfully of things like hot soup and the pile of blankets Viktor keeps half-folded on the sofa. He's coughing and sniffling, and his throat has moved from scratchy to the sore, almost burning sensation that always, always means he's catching a cold. 

His mind drifts off a bit, but behind him he hears the thin scrap of a blade against ice, but there is something wrong, something strange and jagged about the sound, then a gasp, and a dull thud. 

And Yuuri knows before he looks that it's Viktor, and that he's hurt. Worry gathers in his stomach, cold and hard, and he rushes to Viktor, unsure what to expect. 

He finds Viktor on the ice, one leg stretched in front of him, the other half-curled as he reaches for his ankle. At first, he looks stunned, and then, as Yuuri kneels down next to him on the ice, mortified. 

Completely and utterly _mortified_. He refuses to let Yuuri help him up at first, but has to ask for help when the ankle gives out under him, and then refuses to say anything while Yuuri and Mila help him to a seat. The walk off the ice is slow and careful, and Victor keeps trying to test his hurt ankle. 

"You should probably stay off that," Yuuri says, and clears his throat to disguise his worry. 

"I can't tell if it's hurt if I don't check," Viktor says. "Sorry," he says to Yuuri and Mila when she tells him not to snap at them. "It hurts," he says, and leans more heavily against Yuuri. 

"But what happened?" Yuuri asks as they sit down. He rests a hand on Viktor's shoulder as Viktor tests his ankle with the skate still on. He grips more tightly when he sees Viktor clench his jaw. "Is it broken?"

"The ice was slick, then uneven, and I should've noticed, but..." He shrugs, and leans in closer to Yuuri as he leans down to untie and tug off his skate. When he tests the ankle again, he bites his lip. "I don't think so."

His eyes water a little and Yuuri knows without asking that he's working hard not to make any sound of pain. 

"Doctor," Yuuri says, and Viktor gives a nod.

"Just to be sure," he says, but his voice sounds strained. "I'm sure it'll be fine." 

~

Trying not to feel anxious about Viktor during the taxi ride to the doctor's office has one marked benefit: it keeps Yuuri from thinking about the steady progression of his cold. He can feel the building congestion more acutely when they walk into the over-warm waiting room, and the sniffles start up as he watches Viktor fill out the intake paperwork. 

"Do you need tissues? I have..." Viktor pats his pockets, then pulls out a few from his coat. "Here." 

"Th-thanks. Sorry," he says, but takes the tissues, and wipes his nose carefully. He's starting to feel like a mess; he really doesn't want to look like one when he's supposed to looking after Viktor. 

"You're only sniffling," Viktor says. He puts the clipboard down to reach over and fix Yuuri's scarf, then puts an arm around his shoulders. "We'll stop on the way home for better tissues. And cold medicine."

"Whatever we have is fine. Did you finish?" 

"What? Oh. I think so." Viktor glances down at the clipboard, reviews the paperwork, and signs one last time before he lets Yuuri take it from him. "And no, whatever we have probably isn't good enough. Expired cold tablets and throat sweets that you hate? No. We'll stop on the way home.."

Yuuri leans into the hug that Viktor gives him, then slips out from under his arm to take the clipboard back up to the front desk. They'll have to stop at the drugstore on the way home for painkillers, probably, and it'll be easier to let Viktor have his way with cold supplies than to try and convince him otherwise. 

Not that he's completely wrong, not with how this cold keeps growing more and ... well, more. Yuuri gives his head a shake, and clears his throat after he sits back down. He tugs the tissues out from his coat pocket, wipes his nose before he has to sniffle again, and sits back down next to Viktor. 

"I don't think you'll have to wait long." 

Viktor nods, tight and brief, a sure sign he's nervous but doesn't want to admit it. He stares straight ahead for a minute, then glances at Yuuri and puts his hand on Yuuri's knee.

Yuuri reaches over to rest his hand over Viktor's and hides his own worry behind a fuller, more reassuring smile. 

The doctors that Yakov sends his skaters to for injuries like this said they would able to fit Viktor in within the hour, and the waiting room isn't crowded at all. It's quiet and warm, and the way Viktor distracts himself by stroking Yuuri's hair is soothing enough to drop him into a doze. 

But not so much of one that he doesn't sit up as soon as he hears Viktor's name. Viktor _tsks_ at him, and says he's already fussing too much, but Yuuri slides his arm around Viktor and helps him stand, then helps him walk to the examination room.

~

"That sounds like a sprain," the doctor says as soon as Viktor explains what happened.

"... but I've _never_ sprained my ankle skating before," he protests as the doctor draws off his sock and rolls up the leg to his sweatpants. "I think I only twisted it." 

"It's one of the most popular injuries for ice skaters," she explains, ignoring his protests, and begins to feel his ankle. She speaks English, at Viktor's request so Yuuri can understand her, too, and when she doesn't, Viktor translates. 

He gives a gasp at the first sharp movement, but clenches his jaw against another when the doctor moves it in a slightly different manner. Viktor glances over his shoulder at Yuuri, defiant and proud and anxious all at once, and Yuuri gets up from his seat to stand next to the examination table. 

"Yes, but I have never... Oh." He inhales sharply through his nose and exhales in a careful, measured breath. Yuuri rests his hand on Viktor's arm and this time when Viktor glances at him, gratitude lights his eyes. 

Yuuri keeps the grip he has on Viktor's arm firm, finding it difficult to hold back his own worry while he watches the doctor test the injury. Viktor looks over his shoulder at Yuuri, gives him a smile, and nods for him to move in closer. He does manage to gather up enough energy to protest throughout the whole examination that he can't be a true sprain, or anything serious, though he gives a rather drawn out sigh of relief when the examination is done. 

Yuuri stays as close to Viktor as he can, leaning against the examination table and making sure to not cough or sniffle the whole time. He allows himself a few swallowed back coughs when his throat starts to tickle from the warm, dry air, and only shakes his head when Viktor gives him a questioning frown. 

The sniffles, though, those are more difficult to ignore. His nose decides to start running halfway through the exam, and his frustration with the cold competes with his worry for Viktor. Almost as soon as the examination ends and the doctor begins to explain the injury, he has to turn his face into his shoulder to rub at his nose and to give a couple more held-in coughs. 

"It's only a sprain, and not quite, though almost, a Grade II, so you'll need to stay off the ankle completely for only a few days, though you should start seeing your physio as soon as you can." 

Viktor groans, but Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. Viktor will be impossible about the missed training time, of course, but it could be worse, so much worse. 

And that moment, the one where Yuuri lets out his sigh of relief and lets go of some of his worry and anxiety, is the same moment that he feels himself succumb to the cold. The runny nose he'd been able to hold off for the length of the examination becomes instantly and impossibly problematic, and he hardly has time to excuse himself before he turns away. Yuuri catches a sneeze in the crook of his elbow, and flushes warm as the doctor blesses him. It's embarrassing, really, to be visibly ill in a doctor's office, when he's not the one there to see the doctor. 

"Oh, bless you..." Viktor turns to Yuuri after a second sneeze with an odd, fond look on his face and reaches for Yuuri's hand so he can hold it in his own. "We'll be home soon. He's been coming down with a cold all morning," Viktor explains when the doctor glances at him, and he almost sounds _proud_.

Which is ridiculous and exactly like Viktor, to choose the strangest of moments to show off his relationship with Yuuri. Who can feel himself blush with embarrassment all over again at both Viktor's comment and the way the doctor offers him the box of tissues from the examination table. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, hoping that covers all the comments the two of them have made at him in the past minute. It's Viktor who should be the center of attention here, not his deteriorating ability to fight off a head cold. 

Having the tissues close at hand means Yuuri can hide behind them instead of having to acknowledge the sympathetic looks and the way the doctor looks over her glasses at him every time he sniffs quietly. 

When he lets another tired sigh escape between sniffles, Viktor touches his arm, and then keeps touching him, rubbing his shoulder when he coughs or clears his throat, and then rests his hand above Yuuri's wrist when he has to reach for the tissue box again. He wants to tell Viktor that he's being ridiculous, but... 

But it's sort sort of nice, if Yuuri looks past the fact that they're in a doctor's office and Viktor is getting a lecture on painkillers, compression wraps, his air cast, and how he should use the crutches he's declared he doesn't need, at least for a few days. 

Yuuri stays close while Viktor gets his ankle wrapped in the compression bandage, hoping he learn enough from watching to be able to do it for Viktor at home. The cold's making him start to feel a little blurry, though, and it's with a grateful sigh that he drops his used tissues into the bin when the doctor finally leaves. 

"You feel tired? Poor baby." Viktor pats the edge of the table and puts his arm around Yuuri when he sits down next to him. "You're probably ready to go home. Me, too." 

Yuuri nods, and then draws in a careful breath through his mouth. It catches halfway, and and he pulls away from Viktor to angles his head towards the crook of his arm for another sneeze.

"Bless you! Maybe I should have the doctor look at you? I can ask her." 

"She's a foot and ankle doctor," Yuuri points out, snatches the tissue that Viktor offers him, and tries to hold off sneezing again. 

Which effort fails, of course, and he ends up sneezing and coughing. The noise echoes through the examination room and Yuuri cannot help but feel embarrassed, though it's only Viktor in the room with him. That almost makes it worse, however, as he wants Viktor to focus on his injury, not on worrying over him. 

"Now you sound like you have a cold." 

"You've been telling me I sound like I have a cold all day." 

"Well. It's been true all day, but now you really sound like you have a cold in your head. You look tired and sniffly. It's kind of adorable." Viktor gives a smile of approval at his own words and makes a move to lean in and kiss Yuuri on the cheek.

Yuuri shakes his head at Viktor and pulls out another handful of the thin, rough, papery tissues from the box. "It's not adorable at all, it's--" 

Thankfully, the door to the room opens, so Yuuri doesn't need to think of some retort. Anyway, what he does need to do is blow his nose, and Viktor needs to listen to the doctor, so Yuuri takes a few steps away to let Viktor finish up. When he's done, he hands Yuuri a sheaf of papers about ankle sprains and their treatment, and Viktor scowls as he gets an aircast fitted over his hurt ankle. 

~ 

Not only does Viktor insist on walking through the whole drugstore on his new crutches, but he also insists on buying half of what the store has available for colds. He makes Yuri add about a half dozen different cold medicines to their basket, and pays for all of it before Yuri can try to cull from the pile.

"But... we don't need all this. You don't even take any of this stuff, do you?" 

Viktor shrugs. "That," he says and nods toward a bottle of cold syrup, "when I have a cough." 

Yuuri picks up the bottle and grimaces. "It's mostly alcohol. And it looks like it tastes horrible." 

"That, or tea with honey and vodka." Viktor smiles, but the smile's a little strained, and by the time they get to the register, it's obvious the sprained ankle is getting to him. 

Once they return home with the purchases, he eases himself down onto the sofa with a tired sound, and waits for Yuri to join him after they've tugged off coats and scarves and shoes. 

Yuri helps Viktor put his foot up, and leaves the bags on the kitchen counter where Makkachin can't get to them. He needs to open a box of tissues as soon as they get home, however, and he sniffles into a series of the tissues while he unpacks the bags. By the time he gets back to the sofa and nestles in next to Viktor, he's ready to close his eyes and start sleeping off the cold. 

"You should take some medicine..." Viktor strokes Yuuri's hair, and doesn't stop when Yuuri shakes his head. "We have enough now, you can choose." 

"Oh...It's not bad enough yet.. 

"How can you tell when it's bad enough? This isn't bad enough?" 

Yuuri raises his head, sniffling, and turns to look at Viktor. He regrets it in the space of a second, though, and he snaps his head to the side just as he lets out a sudden sneeze. 

"Bless you! Come on, it's fine, come _here_..." Viktor shifts on the sofa slightly, stretching out his hurt leg so it's more comfortable on the ottoman, and pulls Yuuri closer in against his side. "You'll give yourself whiplash." 

"But... I can't... I can't sneeze and cough at you. And it's always like this for a couple days at the start, I'm sorry, I can't stop it, though," he says in a rush, embarrassed to be so obviously sick, and takes off his glasses to rub at his tired eyes.

"You're not supposed to stop it. _Tsk_ , no, don't worry," Viktor says before Yuuri can even draw in another breath to argue. "I'm going to be home all day today with you no matter what, and it's not like I can avoid your cold." 

"You're not even trying to," Yuuri and reaches across Viktor to get to the tissue box. 

Viktor beats him to it, though, and pulls out a couple tissues to pass to Yuuri. He takes Yuuri's glasses away, too, and goes back to stroking Yuuri's hair while he blows his nose and coughs into the tissues. 

"I'll probably have to stay home for a few days before I can get back to the rink with you. If I'm going to catch your cold, now would be the convenient time to do it." 

And for some reason, either the soft, thoughtful, almost fond tone of Viktor's voice, or the gentle way he keeps stroking his slim fingers through Yuuri's hair, or some combination of everything, of the way he talks to Yuuri and the way he touches him, and the way he sits so close and warm to him, makes warmth creep up Yuuri's cheeks. 

He turns to hide his face in Viktor's chest, but instantly regrets that, too, when he feels his throat bothers him. He pulls himself away reluctantly, holds back a couple coughs, and mumbles an apology when Viktor tries to pull him back as turns away from Viktor to cough more fully. 

"Oh!" Viktor makes a sound of surprise, as if he could've possibly expected any other reason for Yuuri to move away from him, then pulls Yuuri back into his chest. "No, no, don't be shy. I said I'd take care of you..." 

"You're _hurt_. V-vitya, no, don't..." 

"Listen, I can't run down to the shops to get you throat sweets or whatever soup you like, but I can order take-out and sit with you and keep you warm." 

"... and catch my cold..."

"Perhaps that, too. If you stay so close." Viktor smiles when Yuuri gives him a hesitant look. "It's adorable, though, how you curl up next to me when you finally relax. And if all I'm going to be able to do today is sit on the sofa, I don't see why I can't have you here for me to look after. You can take a nap on me, you like that."

Yuuri sighs and takes the tissues from Viktor when he beams at Yuuri, and beams at the dog when he comes to nuzzle against Yuuri's leg. 

"See? Makkachin wants to look after you, too. He'll keep you warm when I have work to do." 

Yuuri's sniffly and tired enough that this time he nods and rests his head against Viktor's shoulder. "Do you want tea? I want tea. And... and soup for dinner."

"It's lunchtime," Viktor points out. He kisses the top of Yuuri's head and nuzzles through his hair, then kisses his forehead. "But if you fall asleep on me, by the time you wake up, it'll be closer to dinner, and I'll order you the soup you like best." 

"Tea, though, I want tea now. Makkachin, go make us tea." Yuuri nudges the dog gently with his toes, then smiles and pets him behind ears when he gives gives a pleased little _ruff_. "I'll go make tea," he says, and tugs himself away from Viktor and the dog to stand and stretch. 

"Oh, I can't today, but... tomorrow, though," Viktor says. He frowns down at his hurt ankle, and then rubs Yuuri's arm while he collects his used tissues from the sofa. "I should be able to walk on it a little tomorrow, and I'll bring you tea in bed." 

"... in bed?"

"In bed. With your tissues and medicine and all the other things you'll need to feel better."

And because making plans like that seems to make Viktor feel better, Yuuri gives a smile of agreement. "Alright. When you're in slightly less pain, and I'm...um. Probably more full of cold, you can do all that. D'you want tea, though? You can take the ice off your ankle for a while now, I think."

"Tea. Sweet, please?" Viktor asks, looking up at Yuuri through his fringe. 

"I know. Strong and sweet. Anything else?" 

"Lunch. I want you to eat lunch and then rest, if you refuse to take any cold medicine." 

"I w-will. When I get really stuffed up." Yuuri shakes his head when Viktor's hand rests on his stomach to stroke gently, but Viktor doesn't pay attention, of course, and keeps his hand there, gentle and firm and warm. He sneezes yet _again_ , and lets out a noise of frustration. 

"Bless you, sweetheart," Viktor keeps stroking Yuuri's stomach and makes a soft sound of approval when he moves closer into the touch. He hands Yuuri tissues when he nods and keeps him close.

"Sorry..." He sighs and bins the used tissues. 

"It's fine. But I still think you should take something." 

"But it'll put me to sleep for the whole afternoon."

"See? Perfect. You can be tired and needy and I can look after you if you stay here on the sofa with me."

"I'll go make our tea," Yuuri says, and pulls away to collect the ice pack and empty cups to take back to the kitchen. "Then I'll come back and fall asleep on you." 

Viktor looks so pleased that Yuuri can't help but smile, too, and resign himself to an afternoon on the sofa. 

~ 

As Viktor predicted, Yuuri falls asleep on the sofa after lunch while Viktor's watching recordings of training sessions on his tablet. He wakes up a couple times to watch with Viktor, but dozes off again after ten or fifteen minutes. 

When he wakes up for real, his head is heavy with congestion and his throat is dry and sore. He half wants to go back to sleep again, and half wants to force himself awake to check on Viktor. 

"How long did you let me sleep? Did you ice your ankle? And take the painkillers again? Oh," he says and pauses at the sound of his voice. 

"Mm. Ice, yes, and it's just past five o'clock. And I took the painkillers," he adds before Yuuri asks him. 

Yuuri nods his approval, and, as soon as he sits up, rubs both his hands over his face. 

"Do you want your soup? I'm going to order soup," Viktor says when Yuuri only gives him a bleary look in reply. 

The rest of the evening is a pleasant blur of warm food and Viktor fussing and Yuuri countering it with forcing Viktor to make sure he ices and elevates his ankle and takes his painkillers. It's as pleasant as Viktor claimed it would be, and although he's definitely ill by the time he gets into bed to watch a film with Viktor, he can't help but be grateful to have spent the time with his boyfriend. 

"Wrap my ankle, then fall asleep?" Viktor says after they shower, change into pajamas, and sit down on the bed. 

"I can stay up." Yuuri gives himself a shake and shifts so he can lift Viktor's ankle into his lap. "I'm not sure I can do as good a job as the doctor..." 

"Watch a youtube video?"

Yuuri pauses, the compression bandage half unwrapped, and looks at Viktor. 

Who gives him a sunny, but tired, smile, and shrugs. "It'll be fine. If not, we ask the internet for help." He wriggles his toes in Yuuri's lap and waits until he gets a smile from his boyfriend before he stops. "How does it look?"

"A little bruised? It's not so bad. It hurts, though, I know," he adds when Viktor tenses as Yuuri touches the bruised area with a gentle fingertip. 

Viktor nods, resigned, and lets out a slow breath. He hates this, Yuuri knows how he hates this, not being able to look after himself properly, not being able to do all the things he wants to do, when he wants to do them. 

But he likes the attention, Yuuri knows that, too, so he rubs Viktor's feet and warms his toes, and rubs his leg again through the bandage when he's done. 

Viktor stays still while Yuuri wraps his ankle, then eases himself against the pillows when Yuuri finishes. "Come here, come fall asleep on me again." 

And Yuuri, who's managed not to cough or sniffle or sneeze at Viktor the whole time he was wrapping his ankle, and who's had hot tea, a long hot, shower, and a dose of cold medicine before bed, is too exhausted to argue. 

~

Two days later, Yuuri wakes up feeling clear-headed and energetic enough to think about going to the ice rink. He's still congested, but the heavy, dull ache that he'd had earlier in the cold has faded some. He even feels energetic enough to think about cleaning up the sitting room from the detritus of their few days spend lazing in there. 

Viktor, however, wakes up a bleary mess of watery eyes and runny nose, and he waves Yuuri away when he tries to give Viktor tea with his morning dose of painkillers. He takes the tablets with a mouthful of water, buries his face in the pillows, and falls back asleep as soon as Makkachin curls up in bed next to him. 

Yuuri sits with Viktor for a little while, pushing his hair back off his face and listening to make sure the cold hasn't already settled in his chest. Eventually, he leaves to shower and make himself breakfast, but returns to bed with his own cup of tea to drink while he reads through his Twitter and Instagram feeds. Viktor doesn't stir much, though he's starting to make quiet, snufflish sounds in his sleep that calm for a bit when Yuuri rubs his back. He sleeps curled on his side, hair falling into his face, and he murmurs when Yuuri shifts from rubbing his back to smoothing his hair. 

"... don't go," Viktor murmurs when Yuuri gets up off the bed. His fingers are warm when they brush against the back of Yuuri's hand to pull him in close once more. 

"Thought you were sleeping." Yuuri uses one fingertip to stroke Viktor's hair off his face. 

"Nmm... half-sleeping." He shifts to lie on his back, then gives Yuuri a sleep-blurred smile when he strokes Viktor's palm. He slides his fingers between Yuuri's to try and pull him in close. "I want to keep you here with me." 

"I can tell. You look so tired." 

Despite the shrug of protest he gives, Viktor really does look tired. His face is smudged with the fatigue that only illness can bring, and beneath the flush of sleep Yuuri can tell he has that fine, fragile paleness that comes over him when he comes down with something. 

"You can get some more rest while I'm gone. Besides, I don't think I'll last too long on the ice." Yuuri leans down over the snoozing dog to press a few kisses to Viktor's forehead. "I really want to get in some time before the weekend." 

"But I rest better when you're here with me. You always keep me warm," he adds, and his voice gets creaky toward the end. Viktor swallows, and a curious expression comes over his face. "Oh. Sore throat." 

"You've caught my cold," Yuuri explains, though, surely, Viktor had known this would happen. "I'll get back in bed with you when I come back, so you can warm me up." 

Viktor sighs, then sniffles, coughs, and turns his face into the pillow. Another sigh, then he looks back at Yuuri, his expression set into the more authoritative one he uses when he's coaching him. "Thirty minutes," he says, coughs, and winces against the sore throat before he repeats, "Thirty minutes, that's all. Warm up, then thirty minutes on the ice, and cool down in the rink. Wear a lot of warm layers. Take tea in a travel mug. Don't let Yakov tell you to push past the cold." 

"Viktor--" 

"And you took cold medicine? No? Okay. Something for the stuffy head when you come home. Don't push yourself too much. It's not worth the misery later, I know, you think I haven't done what you're doing? A few times." 

"I'm only going to practice the basic routine. I'm not coughing much, but..." 

Viktor nods, and looks ready to say something else. He doesn't though, just burrows down into the pillows and nudges Yuuri until he fixes the blankets for him. 

He kisses Viktor and rubs his back through the blankets until he looks ready to drop off once more. 

"Text me?" He mumbles. "When you're on your way home? I'll make sure I'm awake."

"I promise." 

~ 

When Yuuri gets home, Viktor is awake, though Yuuri suspects he's only been so for about the past ten minutes since Yuuri texted him. He's still dressed in the tee shirt and sweatpants he fell asleep in last night, with a worn hoodie over the shirt, unzipped. 

"Good morning. Again." Yuuri smiles, and reaches for the hot honey-lemon water he'd made himself after getting back. 

Viktor limps to the sofa and sits down next to Yuuri, careful of his ankle. He's given up on using the crutches at home, though he ought to have the aircast on. The ankle needs rewrapping, too, but that can wait until Viktor's more fully awake. 

"Do you want tea this time? I can make you some breakfast, too."

Viktor peers at him for a moment, his eyes tired and watery, and his nose already a flushed shade of pink. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and scrubs at them but he looks just as tired and half-asleep as he did earlier, save now he looks a little pink around the rims of his eyes, too.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me how bad you were feeling?" He sniffles heavily and coughs a few times, then sniffles again and scrubs his nose against the back of his hand. "Yuuri, this cold is _awful._ " 

Yuuri puts his phone aside and turns to Viktor; he presses his hand to Viktor's forehead, lets it rest there for a while, and then strokes his cheek. He's warm, and maybe a little feverish from the cold, but he's also due for another dose of medicine for his ankle, so that should take care of any low-grade temperature he might be running. 

"I'm pretty sure I did. I felt like I was moaning about it most of the other day." 

"You coughed at me and complained about it maybe once or twice? You need to complain more so I know how bad your colds actually are." 

"Maybe you got hit by it a little harder than I did? I didn't think you'd catch it this quickly..." 

"Ugh, I can't breathe properly, and _everything_ feels terrible. You didn't warm me everything would feel terrible, Yuuri. But also..." He pauses, draws his eyebrows together in a frown, and gives his head a little shake. "Itchy?"

"Oh..." Yuuri reaches over to brush Viktor's rumpled hair away from his eyes, and pets his cheek again when he sniffles and wrinkles up his nose. "Your throat?"

Viktor shakes his head. "My throat hurts... did your throat hurt this much?" He sniffles again, then catches a powerful sneeze against his shoulder. "Ohh... that hurt, too."

"I'm sorry I got you sick..." Yuuri touches Viktor on the shoulder, then lets his hand rest there when Viktor leans into the touch. "Do you want this? Here, drink some." He offers Viktor the warm drink, then urges it on him more strongly when he looks uncertain. "Go on, take it. It'll help your throat."

Viktor blinks at him and snuffles. He presses his nose into the tissues, snuffles again, and lets out a sigh as he leans in against Yuuri. "Not your fault..." He finally takes the mug, though, and takes a few sips. Usually, he won't drink the hot water with honey and lemon, claiming it needs tea in order to have taste, but he must be cold-ridden enough to not mind now. 

"But... it is. You wouldn't be sick if I weren't sick, and I shouldn't have slept with you these past few nights, or stayed so close--" 

"Yuuri--" Viktor interrupts him, then interrupts himself with a few hoarse coughs. He drains the mug of the drink, places it aside, and faces Yuuri. "I do know how people catch colds. And I didn't ask you to keep away. Quite the contrary."

"But... now you're sick and hurt."

Viktor slides in closer on the sofa, and cuddles himself in close to Yuuri to stroke his chest. "And you still have this awful, awful cold..." 

"I... Oh. N-not as much now..." 

Viktor shakes his head, and rubs his face in against Yuuri's shoulder. "No.... I can hear it in your voice, how your head's congested and your throat's all roughed up."

Viktor feels so warm next to him on the sofa, so easily affectionate with the way he curls himself closer to Yuuri and tucks his head into the crook of Yuuri's neck, that he makes it difficult to not yield to his attention. He does feel bad, though, for how much Viktor must be suffering, between the stuffy head cold and his sprained ankle. And while the ankle's getting better, the cold's probably going to linger in his head for a few days. No matter how clingy the cold makes him, how warm and readily affectionate, Yuuri can't help but feel guilt twinge inside him now. 

"Ah, you're worrying about something." Viktor rubs his face against Yuuri's shoulder before pressing a kiss there. "I can tell by the look in your eyes. You worry too much, my Yuuri.." 

"But you're sick..." Yuuri strokes Viktor's back, encouraging him to snuggle in closer, and gets rewarded with a warm, tight hug. 

"Hm... A-and you... how long were you on the ice today?"

Yuuri scrubs a hand over his face, holding back the urge to cough. "An... an hour?" He says, voice rough, and resigns himself to the coughing fit. "An hour," he repeats, the words more clear, but his voice deeper and marked by congestion once more. "Maybe not even that long." 

Viktor nods against his shoulder. "That's all? Did you record it for me?"

"What? _No._ It... it was pretty bad. My nose kept running, and I was coughing, and I had to stop a half dozen times to blow my nose, and --" 

"And?" Viktor kisses his neck again and gives a brief cough himself. 

"... and I'm still getting over this cold," Yuuri says, knowing what's coming next. 

"Exactly. You're still not feeling good, and you shouldn't make yourself feel worse because you gave me your cold. Silly boy," he murmurs, and angles his head aside to sniffle into his handful of crumpled tissues. "If ... if you needed to skate in competition, I'd make sure you got through. But, you don't, so? See, now I know how bad your cold is." Viktor does that thing again where he sounds ridiculously proud for no reason, made more ridiculous by the sniffly, scratchy sound of his voice, and how he half-muffles his words in the tissues as he wipes his nose. 

"Because I got you sick," Yuuri says, and while he does still feel bad, that tight knot of guilt in his stomach unravels and is replaced with the warmth of knowing that Viktor's not annoyed with him, and that he still wants to stay close to him. 

"Because you got me sick," Viktor murmurs, and alright, maybe that odd, pleased, proud note in his voice is kind of endearing, though he could find something else to be smugly couple-ish over. "And now you have me all to yourself the whole weekend. You can't argue with that, right? Good," Viktor says, quickly and breathlessly, and buries his face in the tissues for another powerful sneeze. He looks surprised again after sneezing, then frowns and rubs his throat. 

"Bless you..." Yuuri tucks Viktor's head back against his shoulder and turns to nuzzle into his soft, messy bed-hair. "You need some painkillers, and maybe a decongestant?"

"Probably? Do I sound terrible?" Viktor asks.

"Not really?"

"Not yet..." He pouts up at Yuuri little at that thought, but rests his head back down obediently. "Do I look terrible? Don't tell me I look terrible."

Yuuri hesitates, because, truly, Viktor looks completely endearing, too, with his rumpled hair and his watery eyes and the way he keeps trying to hide the fact that he has to constantly sniffle. 

"You look like you have a cold," Yuuri says, and, when Viktor gives a long-suffering sigh, he adds, "You can have some of that vile cold syrup you decided we needed to buy."

"Because it works." He looks up at Yuuri, offended, and would probably have detailed the benefits of the orange syrup if a cough hadn't caught in his throat. 

"It only works because it's knocks you right out. I might as well let you drink a shot of vodka." That seems to cheer Viktor up, though Yuuri's not going to give him either if they don't work with his painkillers for the sprain. 

"It does that, better than vodka," Viktor says, and rests his head back on Yuuri's shoulder. "I'll take it later, in that case. I just woke up. You should tell me about your morning." 

"Viktor, you _know_ what I did this morning. You were half-awake for most of it. And you had me text you about the other half before I even got home." 

"Right, right, but I want to hear you tell me about it. Thanks," he murmurs, ducking his head, when Yuuri puts the tissue box between them. "Who was at the rink? Did Makkachin enjoy his walk? You took pictures, da?" He reaches for tissues with one hand and wipes his nose, then reaches for Yuuri's phone with the other. "Oh, look at that, come here, Makkachin, come see, it's you." 

Yuuri sighs as Viktor takes control of his phone and cheerfully posts a handful of pictures to Yuuri's Instagram and texts himself from Yuuri's phone. The dog pads over to them and rests at Viktor's feet, nuzzling at his hurt ankle before cuddling in close. He takes another picture of Makkachin, then one of himself, and scrutinizes the one of himself before posting that to Yuuri's Instagram, too. 

"Oh, no," Yuuri says, when Viktor won't hand his phone back to him as he starts to receive notifications. "Please don't tell me what you posted. I'll wait to be mortified." 

"What? It's a cute post, I promise." He smiles at Yuuri, all snifflish charm, and hands him his phone back. He droops a bit, too, and tugs one of the blankets from the corner of the sofa into his lap. "I think I need tea," he says, and presses his face against Yuuri's shoulder. 

"Tea? And breakfast? Lunch for me, but breakfast for you."

Viktor shrugs in reply to that, and in that shrug, Yuuri can tell that he's finished catching and actually has a cold. The bleary look never leaves his face, and each time he sneezes, he seems to end up sniffling and coughing for a good while after. 

He sniffles into a couple new tissues, doesn't let Yuuri stand up from the sofa immediately, but asks for tea again when Yuuri allows Viktor to pull him closer. 

"Let me get your tea, and something to eat, okay? Then you can moan at me and tell me how awful you feel. D'you feel awful?" he asks, worry gathering inside him again when Viktor coughs and groans. 

"A little? Mostly my throat."

"Yeah? But not really awful? Like-- do you need to go--"

"--no, not that awful," Viktor says, and he hugs Yuuri before he can ask more questions. "Tea, though, please? For you, too. You still sound bad, really." 

"Now it sounds worse than it actually is," Yuuri says. He's not lying either--he sounds hoarse and congested, and he feels more worn out after a short practice than he usually would, but he can tell he feels better than Viktor. "You'll tell me if it's really awful, though, right? Because my throat did not feel like that." 

"I'll tell you, so you don't turn into a ball of anxiety. Like how you worry over me, though," he admits, in low, rough voice, and when he kisses Yuuri on the shoulder, it's the small, gentle kisses that he gives him only when they're somewhere alone and quiet. 

Yuuri has to remind himself to trust Viktor, to trust himself and not worry over every small thing, and that he's somehow managed to get almost a whole week alone with Viktor. That might not be worth one of them made victim to a sprained ankle and both of them to a winter head cold, but... well, no, maybe it is worth that, at least in some small way. 

Yuuri extricates himself from Viktor and the blanket on the sofa, leans down to kiss the top of Viktor's head, then kisses his forehead when he looks up and stays close for one moment more. He makes tea for them both, brings Viktor warm cereal and juice, and toast the way he likes but doesn't expect it, cut into triangles with butter and jam. He even lets Viktor photograph his sick day with Yuuri's phone, just because Viktor wants to. 

"I haven't left the house in three days," Viktor says, when he's had his tea and his medicine, and another cup of tea that he has Yuuri adds three spoonfuls of honey to. "That's pathetic," he adds, but in a thoughtful voice. 

"Do you want to leave? You don't want to leave," Yuuri says, and he can hear the same sort of thoughtfulness in his own voice, a trace of wonder behind his words. 

"Not yet. Not when I have you here with me, and I don't have to share you with anyone else. Anyway, you're pathetic with me, and you were pathetic first, so it's almost like it doesn't count." 

Yuuri kisses Viktor despite his words, or because of them, he's not really sure anymore, but he kisses him enough that both of them have to break away to cough or sniffle at least once before he finishes. 

The sofa gets turned back into a nest of blankets and two half-finished boxes of tissues, and by the time it's mid-afternoon, they're both ready to put the television on and doze off to the background noise it provides. So Yuuri stretches out along the sofa, Viktor pulled against his chest, care taken to keep Viktor's hurt ankle safe, and lets himself realize how easy it might be to get used to the idea of future winters in St. Petersburg.


End file.
